Beasts and Super-Beasts, by Saki

The Treasure Ship

The great galleon lay in semi-retirement under the sand and weed and water of the northern bay where the fortune of
war and weather had long ago ensconced it. Three and a quarter centuries had passed since the day when it had taken the
high seas as an important unit of a fighting squadron — precisely which squadron the learned were not agreed. The
galleon had brought nothing into the world, but it had, according to tradition and report, taken much out of it. But
how much? There again the learned were in disagreement. Some were as generous in their estimate as an income-tax
assessor, others applied a species of higher criticism to the submerged treasure chests, and debased their contents to
the currency of goblin gold. Of the former school was Lulu, Duchess of Dulverton.

The Duchess was not only a believer in the existence of a sunken treasure of alluring proportions; she also believed
that she knew of a method by which the said treasure might be precisely located and cheaply disembedded. An aunt on her
mother’s side of the family had been Maid of Honour at the Court of Monaco, and had taken a respectful interest in the
deep-sea researches in which the Throne of that country, impatient perhaps of its terrestrial restrictions, was wont to
immerse itself. It was through the instrumentality of this relative that the Duchess learned of an invention, perfected
and very nearly patented by a Monegaskan savant, by means of which the home-life of the Mediterranean sardine might be
studied at a depth of many fathoms in a cold white light of more than ball-room brilliancy. Implicated in this
invention (and, in the Duchess’s eyes, the most attractive part of it) was an electric suction dredge, specially
designed for dragging to the surface such objects of interest and value as might be found in the more accessible levels
of the ocean-bed. The rights of the invention were to be acquired for a matter of eighteen hundred francs, and the
apparatus for a few thousand more. The Duchess of Dulverton was rich, as the world counted wealth; she nursed the hope,
of being one day rich at her own computation. Companies had been formed and efforts had been made again and again
during the course of three centuries to probe for the alleged treasures of the interesting galleon; with the aid of
this invention she considered that she might go to work on the wreck privately and independently. After all, one of her
ancestors on her mother’s side was descended from Medina Sidonia, so she was of opinion that she had as much right to
the treasure as anyone. She acquired the invention and bought the apparatus.

Among other family ties and encumbrances, Lulu possessed a nephew, Vasco Honiton, a young gentleman who was blessed
with a small income and a large circle of relatives, and lived impartially and precariously on both. The name Vasco had
been given him possibly in the hope that he might live up to its adventurous tradition, but he limited himself strictly
to the home industry of adventurer, preferring to exploit the assured rather than to explore the unknown. Lulu’s
intercourse with him had been restricted of recent years to the negative processes of being out of town when he called
on her, and short of money when he wrote to her. Now, however, she bethought herself of his eminent suitability for the
direction of a treasure-seeking experiment; if anyone could extract gold from an unpromising situation it would
certainly be Vasco — of course, under the necessary safeguards in the way of supervision. Where money was in question
Vasco’s conscience was liable to fits of obstinate silence.

Somewhere on the west coast of Ireland the Dulverton property included a few acres of shingle, rock, and heather,
too barren to support even an agrarian outrage, but embracing a small and fairly deep bay where the lobster yield was
good in most seasons. There was a bleak little house on the property, and for those who liked lobsters and solitude,
and were able to accept an Irish cook’s ideas as to what might be perpetrated in the name of mayonnaise, Innisgluther
was a tolerable exile during the summer months. Lulu seldom went there herself, but she lent the house lavishly to
friends and relations. She put it now at Vasco’s disposal.

“It will be the very place to practise and experiment with the salvage apparatus,” she said; “the bay is quite deep
in places, and you will be able to test everything thoroughly before starting on the treasure hunt.”

In less than three weeks Vasco turned up in town to report progress.

“The apparatus works beautifully,” he informed his aunt; “the deeper one got the clearer everything grew. We found
something in the way of a sunken wreck to operate on, too!”

“A wreck in Innisgluther Bay!” exclaimed Lulu.

“A submerged motor-boat, the Sub–Rosa,” said Vasco.

“No! really?” said Lulu; “poor Billy Yuttley’s boat. I remember it went down somewhere off that coast some three
years ago. His body was washed ashore at the Point. People said at the time that the boat was capsized intentionally —
a case of suicide, you know. People always say that sort of thing when anything tragic happens.”

“In this case they were right,” said Vasco.

“What do you mean?” asked the Duchess hurriedly. “What makes you think so?”

“I know,” said Vasco simply.

“Know? How can you know? How can anyone know? The thing happened three years ago.”

“In a locker of the Sub–Rosa I found a water-tight strong-box. It contained papers.” Vasco paused with
dramatic effect and searched for a moment in the inner breast-pocket of his coat. He drew out a folded slip of paper.
The Duchess snatched at it in almost indecent haste and moved appreciably nearer the fireplace.

“Was this in the Sub–Rosa’s strong-box?” she asked.

“Oh no,” said Vasco carelessly, “that is a list of the well-known people who would be involved in a very
disagreeable scandal if the Sub–Rosa’s papers were made public. I’ve put you at the head of it, otherwise it
follows alphabetical order.”

The Duchess gazed helplessly at the string of names, which seemed for the moment to include nearly every one she
knew. As a matter of fact, her own name at the head of the list exercised an almost paralysing effect on her thinking
faculties.

“Of course you have destroyed the papers?” she asked, when she had somewhat recovered herself. She was conscious
that she made the remark with an entire lack of conviction.

Vasco shook his head.

“But you should have,” said Lulu angrily; “if, as you say, they are highly compromising —”

“Oh, they are, I assure you of that,” interposed the young man.

“Then you should put them out of harm’s way at once. Supposing anything should leak out, think of all these poor,
unfortunate people who would be involved in the disclosures,” and Lulu tapped the list with an agitated gesture.

Lulu glared at her nephew for some moments in silence. Then she asked hoarsely: “What are you going to do?”

“Nothing — for the remainder of my life,” he answered meaningly. “A little hunting, perhaps,” he continued, “and I
shall have a villa at Florence. The Villa Sub–Rosa would sound rather quaint and picturesque, don’t you think, and
quite a lot of people would be able to attach a meaning to the name. And I suppose I must have a hobby; I shall
probably collect Raeburns.”

Lulu’s relative, who lived at the Court of Monaco, got quite a snappish answer when she wrote recommending some
further invention in the realm of marine research.